


Across Enemy Lines

by CasusFere



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Cross-faction relationship, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2008-02-28
Updated: 2009-06-09
Packaged: 2018-01-14 17:32:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1275010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasusFere/pseuds/CasusFere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love doesn't  recognize battle lines. Random Generator prompt: Thundercracker/Trailbreaker/ambition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N – A random little ficlet spawned by the random pairing generator. Prompt: Trailbreaker/Thundercracker/Ambition – The generator is feeling cross-factionish today

“Y'know what your problem is, TC?” Skywarp frowned at his wing mate. “You've got no ambition.”

Thundercracker ignored him.

“You're one of the best fliers in the entire Air Command,” Skywarp continued after a moment. “You're better than me. Maybe even better than Screamer. But you don't _do_ anything with it!”

Thundercracker just shook his head. “What would you have me do, 'Warp?”

“At least try!”

“Has it occurred to you that maybe I'm happy where I am?”

Skywarp fixed him with one of those penetrating looks that always gave Thundercracker the feeling that his wing mate wasn't half as dumb as he pretended. “You aren't,” Skywarp said flatly. “And slag if I know why.”

Thundercracker didn't answer. After a long moment, Skywarp snorted and walked out.

Thundercracker waited until he knew his wing mate was gone, probably absorbed in some mischief somewhere else. Then he slipped up to the hanger.

_This would be easier_ , he reflected, _if I could teleport like Skywarp. Not that anyone cares where I'm going, as long as I bother showing up for my shifts._ That was why he never tried to get any higher in the ranks – it's much harder to slip out unnoticed when there's people watching you constantly, waiting for you to show the slightest sign of weakness. Given a choice between rank and continuing these little trysts, he'd stay at the bottom of the heap.

He flew, easily avoiding the humans' radars as he made his way to a remote section of wilderness, high in the Rockies. There... just below the trees... A short cliff cut by a rock slide ages ago formed the side of a sheltered clearing, large enough for Thundercracker to stand in and be shielded from view. Anyone flying up on it would have to be right on top of it before they could see anything, and their engines would be heard long before they got close enough.

Thundercracker landed, settling against the cliff to wait. The terrain was rough enough that he wasn't worried about being found by any casual passerby; there wasn't anything up here worth braving the treacherous mountainside for.

Trailbreaker stepped out of the trees, focusing on the reclining seeker.

Thundercracker smiled. “I was beginning to think you wouldn't make it,” he rumbled.

“Got held up,” was all the other offered, striding quickly across the clearing. “But I'm here now.”

It was worth it, Thundercracker decided as Trailbreaker gently pushed him to the ground, the Autobot's weight settling across his hips. All the times he'd caught the blame for his superior's idiocy, every second of the humiliation Starscream loved to dish out – it was all worth it to have this. Trailbreaker's hands worked their way down the seams of his cockpit, sending shivers through Thundercracker's frame.

Skywarp would never understand. The thought of giving up every privilege that comes with rank, of risking everything he'd ever worked for, for an _Autobot_... Skywarp would be horrified at the very idea.

Then Trailbreaker's fingers found the seam of Thundercracker's wing flaps, and all thoughts of Skywarp vanished.

 


	2. Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love doesn't recognize battle lines.

“Sorry, Breaker, Prowl's got me patrolling up on the ridge,” Hound told him regretfully. “Some other time?”

Trailbreaker already knew that. He'd checked the schedule before he'd approached his friend. “Yeah, it's fine.” Guilt stirred in his spark – it went against his nature to use anyone, much less as good of friend as Hound. “I'd like that,” he said, managing a smile.

He hated lying to Hound. He hated lying to anyone, really. But the thought of admitting where he was going, who he was with... of never seeing  _him_  again...

Heading away from the Ark, he was careful to keep his pace normal and unhurried, no matter how much he wanted to floor it. The scenery rolling by was beautiful, but Trailbreaker's spark just wasn't in it.

He should turn around, go back, and tell Optimus Prime everything. How did he think that he'd be able to keep this a secret, anyway? The others would find out eventually, and every day he tried to hide it just made things worse. He could already see the disappointment in Optimus Primes optics in his mind... Telling him now wouldn't make things better, but it might stop them from getting worse.

_After this,_  he promised himself.  _Just one last time of seeing him. When I get back, I'll tell Prime everything._

He turned off the highway, tires crunching in the gravel. Gravel roads quickly gave way to dirt, and eventually even the dirt roads petered out. Trailbreaker had to transform and climb, the mountainside too rough for even his wheels.

Sometimes he envied his lover his wings...

_But then, he actually has the more dangerous route, doesn't he?_ Trailbreaker reflected, ducking around a tree and starting up a steep hillside, feet slipping a bit in the dirt.  _If anyone figures out where he's sneaking off to, or follows him, they'll kill him – or worse._  Decepticons were not known for their mercy, or for their understanding.

Guilt twisted at his spark for the second time that day.  _He's risking his life to see me, and I'm contemplating turning tail and leaving him because someone might disapprove? They won't even hesitate to execute him, and I'm the one getting scared? Slag it, Trailbreaker, you're a selfish fragger, you know that? I owe it to him to at least_ _ **be**_ _there, when he's risking so much for me..._

The distinctive sound of approaching jet engines brought Trailbreaker back to reality with a start. He couldn't see the jet from where he had been standing, staring off into space, but he could recognize the sound of those turbines anywhere. Hurriedly, he started climbing again.

He finally stepped out of the trees into the sheltered clearing, optics going immediately to the seeker lounging against the rocks.

“I was beginning to think you weren't going to make it,” Thundercracker rumbled, the sound sending warm shivers down Trailbreaker's frame.

“Got held up,” Trailbreaker told him, starting across the clearing. His lover had enough to worry about without him adding his foolishness. “But I'm here now.”

The rare smile from Thundercracker killed the last of his doubts. He didn't know why the seeker thought he was worth the risk, but whatever the reason, as long as Thundercracker came, Trailbreaker would be there for him.


	3. Introspection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love doesn't recognize battle lines. A short ficlet in which Trailbreaker learns a few thing about Seekers in general and Thundercracker in particular.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This pairing has really grown on me. Oh well... every slasher needs their own pet crack pairing! Coming back with another short snippet-scene.

“What is your obsession with my wings?” Thundercracker twisted to give his lover a bemused look.

Trailbreaker grinned at him, totally unrepentant. “I can't help it. They're gorgeous.”

“Of course they are,” the seeker snorted, leaning back against him. “But that doesn't explain why you keep petting them.”

“Because I like to.” Trailbreaker stroked his hand over the elegant double stripe curving down the length of a wing. “You know, I always thought they'd be more sensitive.”

Thundercracker snorted blowing exhaust against Trailbreaker's legs. “Ground crawlers usually do,” he said dryly, but his words lacked bite. “You going to be waxing poetical about how we glide gently through the sky, wings kissing the clouds and all that slag next?”

“You're just out to take all the romance out of it, aren't you?” The SUV grinned, draping one arm over the reclining seeker's shoulder to brush his fingers across the top edge of the canopy.

“Am not. I can't imagine life with flying.” He let his head fall back against Trailbreaker's chest, looking up at the sky. “But it's nothing like they say. It's...” he faltered, trying to find the words to describe it. “Look, every second you're up there is a challenge. You're fighting the sky itself for the right to be up there, while it tries to drag you back down to the dirt. Every second of flight is a triumph. It'll kill you if you falter, but if you stay focused and keep your wings steady, it'll raise you to...” He shook his head. “Now who's waxing poetical?”

“I don't mind,” Trailbreaker murmured, nuzzling the top of his head. “Don't stop. I like listening to you.”

Shaking his head, Thundercracker smirked. “I'll never get you ground crawlers. But that's why our wings aren't sensitive,” he continued after a moment. “By the time you hit Mach speed, the winds are strong enough to twist your wings off if you aren't careful. And if something goes wrong at twice the speed of sound, it's not going to matter how good your armor is when you hit ground, you're dead.”

“And yet, you still do it,” Trailbreaker noted with amusement, his fingers working their way up Thundercracker's chest to tease the cables in his neck.

“Of course. Thrill-seeking is hardwired into our programing.” It was hard to tell if he was joking or not. “Mm. You're too good at that.” Thundercracker tilted his head back further.

“That explains a few things, like why you decided it was a good idea to start sneaking out to secretly meet with an Autobot.” Trailbreaker tried to keep his tone light and teasing, but there was an undercurrent of uncertainty.

“Feh. I sneak out to meet an Autobot because I _fell_ for an Autobot. Not my fault you're wearing the wrong colors.”

His dismissive tone was surprisingly comforting. “They're not wrong,” Trailbreaker protested mildly.

“If you say so.” Thundercracker muttered sleepily, offlining his optics and being slowly lulled into recharge by the warm sunlight on metal and the soothing strokes of Trailbreaker's hands. “Honestly, I hope the 'Bots win.”

Stunned, Trailbreaker stopped, staring down at Thundercracker. “...What?”

“I do.” He nudged Trailbreaker's hand with his chin in a silent demand to keep petting.

Slowly, Trailbreaker complied. “Why?” he asked quietly. “And why are you with the 'Cons if you don't believe in the cause?”

“Don't believe the 'Bot's slag, either. Besides, seekers are built to fly in threes.” The last part had the air of something said – and heard – many times before. “One seeker isn't worth much.”

“But you want us to win?” Trailbreaker asked dubiously.

“Yep.” Thundercracker didn't seem inclined to elaborate, content to relax in Trailbreaker's lap.

“Why?” the SUV prompted.

“You're not going to leave it alone, are you?” Thundercracker grumbled. “Fine. I want the 'Bots to win because if _we_ win, they'll shoot you. If you're lucky. The Autobots, on the other hand, are either deluded enough or self-righteous enough to maybe let us be.” He snorted, sending up a puff of dust from under his exhaust ports. “That's providing this war ever actually ends.”

“...That's actually kind of touching. Twisted, but touching.”

“And this from the wing fetishist. You going to shut up and get back to touching _me?_ ”


	4. Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wreckage of a ruined skyscraper on Cybertron, Trailbreaker finds a bit more than he bargained for.

_Four million years ago:_

He should have been glad to see the seeker go down. It was one less Decepticon killer in the air, tearing up the Autobot ranks. But watching him plow into the side of an abandoned building, Trailbreaker couldn't muster any sense of triumph.

He hated war, he hated having to watch mechs die, most of them for causes they didn't even understand. Their planet was dying around them, and there was no end in sight.

With a sigh, Trailbreaker shook his head and started after the seeker, following the trail of wreckage. The impact had ripped a massive hole in the side of the building, and Trailbreaker gave the structure a wary look before ducking inside. Forcefields or not, having several thousand tons of metal and building materials collapse on him was not his idea of fun.

Trailbreaker scrambled over a fallen girder, shoving aside a fallen sheet of plating. It landed on pile of rubble with a crash.

An answering groan came from deeper in the ruined building, followed by the sound of someone transforming, so slowly that Trailbreaker couldn't help but wince. He ducked around a cracked wall and found the seeker slumped in the wreckage.

“Come to finish me off, Autobot?” the seeker rasped, lifting his head to look back at Trailbreaker.

Trailbreaker kept his weapon trained on the seeker, but he had a feeling that he needn't have bothered. The seeker was a mess, one wing bent back, the other missing entirely, energon oozing out of the ragged stump. One leg was twisted under him in a way that suggested that the seeker wasn't going to be using it anytime soon. He didn't look capable of standing, much less putting up a fight.

“No,” Trailbreaker told him quietly. “No need to make a martyr out of you. Consider yourself my prisoner.”

The seeker stared at him for a moment, then let his head drop and started to laugh.

That... hadn't been the reaction he'd expected. Trailbreaker's gun wavered.

“Far be it for me to argue for my own execution, but Decepticons don't have martyrs,” the seeker told him finally. “Only Autobots think that dying can be 'glorious' or inspiring. So if you're going to shoot me, get it over with.” Tremors ran down his body, whether from laughter or pain and exhaustion, Trailbreaker couldn't tell.

“I'm not going to shoot you.” Trailbreaker kept his optics on the seeker as he radioed for backup. The seeker was obviously too damaged to walk out himself, and he was too large for Trailbreaker to carry by himself without injuring the jet further.

The seeker watched the proceedings with macabre amusement.

“You have a name?” Trailbreaker asked into the silence.

“Why do you care?”

“Common courtesy. It'd be nice to know what to call you.” Trailbreaker picked his way across the rubble, edging towards the injured seeker.

The seeker snorted. “Autobots,” he muttered, shifting away as Trailbreaker approached, only to stop short with a pained hiss.

“Hold still,” Trailbreaker ordered, subspacing his gun. The seeker didn't seem particularly inclined towards violence at the moment – and frankly, if Trailbreaker had taken a nosedive through a building, he doubted he'd feel up to fighting, either.

 _But just to be safe..._ Despite his sensibilities screaming at him to tend the the _injuries_ first, Trailbreaker reached for the seeker's guns, half-surprised when the Decepticon didn't resist. _At least it looks like I won't have to worrying about cluster bombs or missiles anytime soon,_ he thought, eying the mangled remains of the seeker's wings.

The seeker shot him an unreadable look when he crouched down to get at the worst of the damage.

“Hold still,” Trailbreaker said absently. “I'm no medic, but let's see if we can stop some of the leaking...” he trailed off, focusing on the energon and coolant seeping from under the seeker's plating.

“Thundercracker,” the seeker said suddenly.

Trailbreaker looked up from his work, startled. “Huh?”

“You asked my name,” the seeker said, avoiding Trailbreaker's optics. “It's Thundercracker.”

“I'm Trailbreaker.” Leaning back over his work, Trailbreaker hid a grin. He had a feeling the seeker wouldn't appreciate it. “I'd say nice to meet you, but under the circumstances...” He shrugged.

“Hn.” Thundercracker slouched against the rubble and let Trailbreaker work in silence.

x-x-x

“It's disgustin'.”

Trailbreaker turned to look at Ironhide in surprise. “What?”

Ironhide scowled across the room at where Ratchet was bent over the injured Thundercracker. “Waste o' resources, if ya ask me.” He snorted. “Not like they're doin' anything of the sort for any of ours that they've got their filthy hands on.”

“That's part of what makes us better than them,” Trailbreaker said quietly. “Not stooping to their level.”

“We can not stoop and not help the fraggers at the same time,” Ironhide growled. “We're gonna end up tradin' that waste of scrap back to Megatron in exchange for some poor slagger who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He'll pick out the lowest-ranked, least militarily important mech in his prison-camps and gloat over how we're handing over one o' his elite for a nobody.” Ironhide snorted. “Ain't nothin' we can do about it, but it puts a kink in my lines just thinkin' about the smug fragger sittin' up there and laughin' about it.” He shook his head. “And then this slagger will be back up in the air, tryin' to kill us, courtesy of our own docs.”

“We can't just let him die in our custody,” Trailbreaker protested.

“Ain't sayin' let 'em die,” Ironhide corrected. “Patch the leaks and toss 'em in a cell, I say. Let Megatron worry about fixin' 'em.” He motioned towards where Ratchet was still bent over the prisoner. “This ain't necessary. It just puts 'em back in the air and shootin' at us that much faster. Frag it all, as horrible as it might sound, better if you'd just shot the fragger.”

“Maybe...” Trailbreaker trailed off, not sure what he wanted to say.

Ironhide looked over at him and shook his head. “Eh, ignore me, kid. Just an old bitter mech grousin' about things he can't change.” He patted Trailbreaker on the shoulder and ambled out of the repair bay.

“You did the right thing,” Ratchet said suddenly, startling Trailbreaker. He hadn't thought the medic was listening. “We can't expect kindness or mercy unless we're willing to offer it first. And maybe someday, this one will see fit to return the favor.”

“Maybe,” Trailbreaker answered.

Ratchet looked up from his work, meeting his optics with a small sigh. “Maybe,” he agreed.

Trailbreaker lingered a bit longer, watching the medic work and wondering.


End file.
